Severus lay under the covers, his arms pining down the edges of the duvet, the curtains of his four poster taped shut with defensive spells. His breathing was ragged in the close darkness and his breath was rapidly heating the small air tent around his face. Someone sat on his bed and he jumped and shook, almost scared enough to wet himself. Terrified he held his breath as he sensed something move over him then rest on the blanket just above his head. He screamed and found himself staring into the face of a man with green eyes and glasses.

Harry stared down in shock at Severus' sweaty and terror filled face, pale on the pillow. He looked almost grey.

"Severus? It's alright, it's just me. Remember me? I'm your, er, Uncle. Guess you maybe haven’t seen me for a few years though right? I'm sorry about that, but I can explain. Sorry about barging in like this as well." he turned and gestured round the dark confines of the small four poster. "I hope you don't mind?" He looked down at Severus and ran a hand through his own hair, giving the younger teenager a crooked grin.

To his chagrin the other boy responded by bursting into tears. He stuffed a hand into his mouth and curled the other round his chest, trying to comfort himself and muffle the noise. Sobs wrenched themselves into the darkness, the wretched boy pleading to Harry. After a few moments while Harry just sat, stunned on the side of the bed, he suddenly moved, leaning over and gathering Severus up into his arms.

"Shh. Shh. It's alright Severus, it's alright now. I'm here. Uncle Harry's here. I'm not leaving. Shh, shh, it’s alright." He sat, cradling Severus' head in his shoulder, his hand stroking the black greasy hair. Gently he began to rock them both back and forward.

Severus wept silently, his tears soaking into the rough fabric of Harry's jumper. He had thought it was James Potter when the blankets had been pulled back from his face. And the shock had jerked his tears free. Now he leant, confused against this man. Vague half memories entered his mind from his childhood. Shapes of a room and a person in it, also when he was in bed. Awkwardly he moved his arm away to the side and sneaked it under the covers to close his fingers over a worn and thin grey paw and gently tugged a small toy bear out from under the duvet. He shifted, looking down at it, and felt the man do the same. A hand, not much bigger than his own, covered his.

"I gave you that. When you were about two." The man - his Uncle? - said gently.  Severus smoothed his fingers over the silky paw, swallowing against the lump in his throat. "You hadn't heard of magic then. Not to believe in it anyway."

Severus said nothing, just blinked and breathed and looked at the bruised knuckles and thin fingers of the man's hand.

"You thought I'd conjured it I think." The man sounded slightly nervous now, Severus thought. And slightly amused.  "Do you remember?"

Severus cleared his throat, a rough noise in the darkness. "Not really. A bit maybe. Mostly shapes and colours."

Harry nodded and leant back slightly, his fingers still gently carding through Severus' hair as he pulled his head forward with him. There was quiet for a while, broken only by the night-time sounds filtering in from the room and the open windows of the slytherin dormitory through Severus' thick green curtains.

"You came when I was eleven too, didn't you?"

Harry started then, his fingers slipping slightly and catching in Severus' hair. "Um, I don't know. What did I, er, we do?"

Severus frowned and lifted his face up then, his eyes meeting the green ones of his Uncle. "You took me to the park. For a picnic. Remember? Lily was there on the swings. You told me to introduce myself. And I- I wouldn't so we went to the cinema." A slight flush suffused his cheeks.

Harry couldn't help it; a teasing grin lifted the corners of his mouth. "That's not the case now though, is it?"

"Uh, no." Severus smiled an embarrassed grin, ducking his head to fiddle with the teddy.

Harry pulled Severus close again, lightly kissing the top of his head.

"What did we see?" Harry asked, "At the cinema?" He wondered what films had come out twenty years ago.

"You don't remember that either?" Snape sounded slightly sceptical.

"I remember taking you out for a chocolate cake when you were younger."

"No, we had ice cream. In those little tubs. Maybe it was another boy - are you sure you're my Uncle?"

"Yes. Quite sure, but you were younger when we had cake. Maybe you don't remember it - we went to a café near the park. You said it was the first time you'd had cake out."

"It was the first time I'd been to the cinema too, but I remember that. But not the other time. How come you can't remember when we went to the cinema? You were older than me so your memory should be better."

"Well, you were only like, six or - or seven maybe when I met you first."

"I thought you said you'd given me Te- the bear." Snape amended hastily, his voice accusing. "I've had him ever since I can remember."

"It's complicated Severus." Harry said after a moment or two. At Snape's sullen glare he added apologetically, "I'm afraid I don't really understand it myself. But I am real, and I am here now. Does that count for anything?"

Snape didn't say anything for a long while but then he slowly nodded against Harry's chest, his fingers tightening slightly on Harry's arms. Harry breathed out a breath he had not realised he'd been holding.  Gently he carded his fingers through Severus' hair, feeling the rhythmic breathing of their two bodies coming quietly into the same pattern.

"So, why are you so wound up tonight? What's happened?"

Severus froze and suddenly Harry felt a cold dread grip his chest. He knew with absolute certainty that he did not want to know the answer. He held his breath, waiting in the silence for Severus to speak.

"They - Potter and - no, Black- told me to - to go -" Severus sucked in a deep shuddering breath.

"Shh, shh Severus, it's alright." Harry squeezed his arms tighter around the younger teenager.  Strangely he felt his heart breaking with sorrow at Snape's plight.

"Lupin's a werewolf." A strangled sob broke from Severus throat, muffled against Harry's chest.

Harry swallowed round a painful lump in his own throat, blinking to clear his eyes of sudden moisture. "You're safe here Severus. I promise." What did he promise? Safety? Here?! Harry pondered. In the darkness he saw the rest of Severus' life play out; made up of Snape's memories and what he had seen in the pensieve, his school years and Dumbledore's comments. It did not look like a nice, safe life down his binoculars. His godfather's comments came into his mind and he winced, unconsciously holding Severus tighter against his chest again.

"It will be alright Severus." Harry lied.

"Black told me to go and see. He wanted me to get caught by the werewolf." Severus whispered. "And I -, I went." The last was swallowed by another sob. "I thought I was going to die when I saw him in the tunnel."

Harry just nodded numbly.

"Then- then Potter was there, and I don't know what happened but-" another breath, "next thing I can remember we were outside near the willow." Severus chuckled, the sound low and derisive, and it carried just a hint of hysteria. "I think I threw up on his shoes."

Harry felt strange then. A mixture of humour at the idea of Snape throwing up on his Dad, coupled with satisfaction that James had had some form of just punishment for his own crimes of humiliation. Also annoyance that Snape had thrown up on his Dad! But also anger that his father and godfather -especially his father - had done such a thing. Ever since he had seen inside of Snape's pensive he had felt bad about what his father had been like; embarrassed and guilty.

But now, though he had been told about the werewolf incident before, he felt truly angry. Harry realised that he hadn't considered that his teacher had practically died that night. Or become a werewolf - dangerous and outcast. And it was all because of a stupid prank by Sirius. The man he had trusted with his own life. The man he had looked up to. Harry felt sick and bitter.

"Good." He heard himself say. 

Sometime later Severus fell asleep and Harry eased him back onto the pillows. Then he stood. It was time his father and Sirius learnt a lesson. Quietly he slipped from the room and crept down the stairs. Slughorn was asleep in a large squashy green armchair in the slytherin common room, an open book on his chest rising and falling as he snored. Harry's lips thinned into a tight line. Clearly ‘constant vigilance’ didn't affect the Slytherin head of house. Not even after one of his students had been almost killed that night.

Then again... He remembered the first time he had met the professor. Blushing slightly he waited in the low firelight, and only continued towards the corridor when he was certain Slughorn was really asleep.

Out in the cold corridor the dungeon lights glowed dimly from the walls as Dumbledore watched the young man stride through them, heading in the direction of Gryffindor tower.  He pursed his lips and reached up a hand to stroke Fawkes with, while the other slid towards the bowl of lemon sherbets on the arm of his chair. He was very interested in this man he decided. This man, who, against all rational rules of 'Hogwarts a History' had, nonetheless, suddenly and without any prior warning appeared on a bed in the Slytherin dormitory. He did not think it could be pure chance either as to which bed this man had settled on as he'd then stayed there, pretty much unmoving for the best part of an hour. As headmaster of the castle Dumbledore was given certain tools - ones which, he knew, gave pause to both staff and students as to his ability to know all things. A somewhat fake omniscience but, nonetheless, useful. Unfortunately, though the castle was wont to inform him of all happenings unexpected and he could ask to view areas containing students at any time, the picture delivered was somewhat less than perfect such that it consisted more of a puppet shadow theatre show rather than real life television. And the sound was not taken up to him. He had to rely on pictures and ghosts for transmission of important information. Unfortunately, those in Slytherin were currently not talking to him and Phineas Nigellus was in the huff too.

He realised the young man was standing in front of the fat lady's portrait, apparently trying to get into the tower. To his amazement the scene moved inside the common room and he started forward in his seat causing Fawkes to emit an indignant chirp as he lost his balance and flew sulkily off to another perch in the office. The man was actually climbing the stairs to the boys’ dormitories now! Dumbledore reflexively put his hand on his wand. He could be down there in less than it would take Fawkes to fly if needed. He watched as the man entered the dorm. Then, without apparently doing anything, he vanished. Dumbledore leapt up with a cry of alarm but when he reached the Gryffindor dormitory there was no one there other than the four boys who usually slept there.

To his annoyance Horace Slughorn was unable to shed any further light on the matter having fallen asleep sometime around four in the morning, while Severus Snape flatly refused to answer his questions. Instead Dumbledore took to brooding over the identity of the young man, the age of whom he wouldn't have put at any greater than twenty, though likely older than Severus himself.

It wouldn't be until James Potter proposed to Lily Evans some five years later that Dumbledore would begin to feel some small satisfaction as to the stranger’s identity, though it would take another sixteen for him to be certain of his choice.